


Grief And Happiness And All The Letters In-between

by perfect_plan



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Death, Fluff, Grief, M/M, Secret Admirer, dealing with death, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 05:17:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3475892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfect_plan/pseuds/perfect_plan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve tries to carry on with his life after the death of his mother in a new neighbourhood. Things take an interesting turn for him when he discovers that he has a secret admirer...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grief And Happiness And All The Letters In-between

Steve folded up the last empty cardboard box and set it aside with the others to add to the recycling later. He stood with his hands on his hips for a moment and looked around with pride. He had _finally_ unpacked all of his stuff and was now officially moved in to his new place. Okay, he had already lived here for three months but he'd been so busy with his commissions and pieces for his upcoming exhibition that he hadn't had more than a few minutes here and there to get everything properly sorted. His _first_ exhibition, he thought nervously and his mind wandered to the mostly blank canvases upstairs in the studio and the work he still had to do for it. Maybe his _last_ exhibition if nobody liked his stuff. He shook the thought from his mind.

He looked over at Thor, his three year-old Malamute and waved a hand at the room. "What do you think? Finally got it all looking spick and span."

Thor raised his head from where he'd been lying on the couch, looked at Steve for a moment and then flopped back down with a chuff.

"Ah, you're no fun." Steve sighed and looked over at the framed photo of him and his mom hanging on the wall. "You'd like it here, Mom. It's a nice place." He swallowed the lump rising in his throat; he wouldn't cry tonight. If she were still here, his mom would kick his ass for crying. She'd also kick his ass for leaving it so long to fully unpack. He turned away and headed into the kitchen to make a start on dinner.

It had hurt like hell to sell the old house - the house he had grown up in - but Sarah Rogers had been adamant that her son wouldn't continue to live there after she was gone.

"Stevie, this place has a lot of good memories for both of us but I want you to promise me that you'll sell up and make a fresh start, okay?"

Steve had fought back tears at the time. "Mom, don't talk like that - "

Sarah had squeezed his hand, as much as she could. "Steven. Please. I don't want this place to become a mausoleum. I don't want you to never come in this room again if you stay here and only think of it as the place where I was too ill to do anything...just promise me. Make new memories for yourself in a new place. _Please_."

She squeezed his hand again and he had finally started to cry and promised her that he would. She had passed away three days later and after the funeral he had stayed with Clint and Phil while he put the house up on the market. His mom had been right about moving on; he couldn't have gone back. He had found this house - a little two bed in a nice neighbourhood - and was trying to make a new life for himself. He had never regretted his decision to take care of his mom during the final stages of her illness at home rather than have her put into hospice care, but he knew that she had always considered herself a burden for putting his life on hold. He wouldn't have had it any other way and he was glad at least that she had died in the place she loved the most.

The house warming party he had when he moved in here had been nice but sad; his friends had all liked Sarah and had stuck by him when he decided to care for her, bringing food and flowers, spending time with Sarah so he could get out of the house (something he had always been reluctant to do but Sam had been the one to drag him out to the park with Thor or just for coffee somewhere) and generally being wonderfully supportive. He didn't think he could have got through everything without them. He had apologised to everyone for making the housewarming feel like another wake and got a smack around the head from Clint for saying so.

He held back a shuddery breath as he turned the stove on. He wanted to make his mother proud and his exhibition was for her which is probably why he was panicking so much about it. Come on, Rogers, he scolded himself. She'd be proud of you whatever you did.

***

Dinner was chicken salad for him and Chum and ham for Thor. Steve smiled when Thor finished licking his chops and rested his head on Steve's knee, looking at him expectantly.

"Oh, like you don't get enough treats." He slipped him a piece of chicken anyway.

Steve went back up to his studio after dinner, the smaller bedroom of the two, and checked through his supplies again. He needed more paint already? He had just done a big online shop of art materials but he grabbed a piece of scrap paper and started to make a new list; he ordered from a small home-run business owned by a couple that had bought some of his original work in the past and he liked them a lot. They were thinking about commissioning him for a large family portrait later in the year so he made sure to order whatever he could through them.

He checked the paint he was low on: Titanium White, Cadmium Red, Hooker's Green. Christmas colors. He still wasn't used to painting Christmas scenes in July but the greetings card companies had to be four steps ahead when it came to the Holidays and they always commissioned Steve for his Christmas scenes. It was good work and he liked painting fir trees and snowmen but having Jingle Bells stuck permanently in his head through the spring and summer months was weird.

He sat at his work table and considered the scene he'd been painting - a snowscape with a lone reindeer - and decided to call it quits for the evening. He would get up early tomorrow, go for a jog with Thor and then get this picture finished and work on his exhibition paintings. It was a warm evening and he stared out of the open window at the street below, a light breeze blowing on his face, still not quite used to being on his own.

***

"Good morning, Miss Carter," Steve called from across the street the next day and walked over to her house, hands on his hips and catching his breath after a vigorous jog. Thor was panting happily at his side.

Peggy Carter, seventy-five but going on thirty, was out clipping roses in her immaculate front garden. Steve liked the Carters a lot; Peggy lived with her niece Sharon, an ER nurse, and they were both funny and pleasant and had taken a liking to him ever since he had moved into the house opposite theirs. Sharon's boyfriend Neal was a doctor at the same hospital and if Sharon was pulling particularly long shifts, Steve would drop by to see Peggy. She was kind and had a wicked dry sense of humour and Steve enjoyed her company a lot; apparently in her youth, Peggy had worked for MI5 and while she didn't explicitly talk about it, she liked to drop in little details about things that may or may not have happened as part of her time with the service. She took great pleasure in keeping Steve on his toes.

"You know, if I were forty-five years older..." He had joked one time.

"What a honeydripper," Peggy had laughed. "Although I'm not entirely put off by the idea of having a toy-boy."

Peggy beamed. "Good morning, Steve. And for God's sake, it's Peggy." She handed him a rose. It was perfect, with velvety petals in a rich deep red.

"Thank you Peggy," Steve smiled. "You're up early. Usually it's just me and Thor out on the street at six in the morning."

Peggy sighed. "My arthritis has been a bloody pain in the backside as of late. Sometimes it's better to be up and moving about rather than to sit and sulk over the constant aching."

Steve's face softened. "If there's anything I can do, any odd jobs or whatever just call me or come and knock on my door. It's no trouble at all."

Peggy smiled again. "Thank you, Steve. I will keep that very much in mind. I like that a big strapping lad like yourself is at my beck and call."

Steve laughed. "On that note, I need to get to work. Thank you for the rose and say hi to Sharon for me."

"I will. Don't work too hard."

***

Steve had a shower and a quick breakfast (he put the rose in a glass of water on the kitchen windowsill) and set himself to work up in the studio. He put on some music - a Thomas Newman mix from various movies - and zoned out at his painting table, determined to get the last couple of Christmas card designs he had been working on finished so he could move on to his exhibition pieces. At 8:30am he stretched and headed downstairs for another cup of coffee, Thor bounding down the stairs after him obviously hoping for some play time.

Steve ruffled the dog's big grey head. "Later, buddy. I really need to get this work finished."

Steve was about to head back upstairs with his coffee and a consolation chewy stick for Thor to keep him busy while he painted when there was a knock on the front door. Steve put down his cup and answered it. The mailman was shuffling through his bag, a package lodged precariously under his arm and a frown on his face as he tried to pull another small package and some letters out of his bag. The guy who usually delivered the mail was an older man; this guy was younger, more Steve's own age if he had to guess. He was wearing a pair of old scuffed Converse and his blue uniform shirt was untucked.

"Can I help you with that?" Steve asked and pointed to the package under the mailman's arm.

The guy looked up at Steve, about to speak but froze for a second, blinked several times instead and proceeded to drop the small box as it slipped out from under his arm.

"Oh shit. Shit shit shit. I'm so sorry." He quickly picked up the package and examined it, his brow knitting in worry. "I hope I didn't damage anything." He handed it to Steve and ran a hand through his short brown hair.

Steve smiled. "It's fine, really. I think it's just some tubes of paint and drafting tape."

The mailman huffed in relief. "Oh good. Second day on a new route and I almost destroy something." He laughed nervously.

"Don't worry about it," Steve said. "Is Tommy not on this route anymore?"

The mailman shook his head. "Tommy's retired now. Moving down to Florida, I think."

"Good for him," Steve said and was about to say bye and head back to work when Thor nuzzled his way through Steve's legs onto the front step, tail wagging.

The mailman's face lit up. "Oh wow. Who is this handsome devil?" He leaned down and scratched Thor's head, immediately finding the sweet spot behind his ear. Thor made a series of contented grunts and leaned into the mailman's hand, eyes closing.

Steve laughed. "Uh-oh, looks like you've made a friend for life."

"Is he a Husky?"

"Malamute. His name's Thor."

The mailman snorted in delight. "Cool name. Hey, Thor. I'm Bucky." He gave Thor one last scratch and stood back up. "Well, I'd better..." he indicated to the street. "Sorry for almost wrecking your stuff."

"No problem," Steve said and stepped to the side. "Come on, Thor. You can't go with him." He gently ushered the dog back inside with his foot.

Thor gave a whine and watched as the mailman - Bucky - headed off down the front walk and out of Steve's garden. Steve closed the door and grabbed his coffee cup, jamming the box of art supplies under his arm when there was another hasty knock on the door.

Bucky was holding a manila packet and a few letters, his face red when Steve answered again. "Sorry, I meant to give you these too. I got distracted by your awesome dog." He looked embarrassed.

Steve laughed and took the rest of his mail. "Thank you. And it's no hassle."

Bucky nodded and gave him an awkward little wave before heading quickly back down his front steps and out onto the street, head down.

Steve had to grab Thor by the collar as he had started to wag his tail again at the sight of Bucky on the doorstep and pulled him back in and closed the door. Thor was well-behaved and trained but he could still run off if he was particularly excited by something.

"You're an odd pooch. You never acted this way with Tommy," Steve said and gave Thor a pat on the flank before finally heading back upstairs to work.

***

Steve noticed Bucky on his route delivering the mail to the houses on the street over the next couple of days from his studio window. He seemed pleasant enough, stopping to talk briefly if people were out in their yards or about to head off to work. He didn't have any more packages so Bucky would just put his mail in the mailbox and carry on up the street. Without really realizing it, Steve would find himself watching Bucky for as long as he was in sight.

The next morning there was another knock on Steve's front door. Bucky was on the front step, another package with some letters placed on top in both hands.

"No chance of me dropping it today," he said to Steve and handed him the box.

There was a bark behind Steve and Thor came padding quickly through the living room to the front door, tail wagging as he approached Bucky.

"Hey there, Son Of Odin," Bucky said and crouched down to ruffle Thor's head and scratch behind his ear. Thor sat down and closed his eyes immediately, huffing out a contented sigh. Bucky laughed. Steve couldn't help but smile and nudged the Malamute with his foot.

"Traitor. You never do that with me."

Bucky stood back up with a grin and shrugged. "What can I say. Must be my natural charm."

Steve noticed then how blue Bucky's eyes were and how they crinkled in the corners when he smiled. Before he found himself staring for longer than was considered polite, he indicated to his mail. "Thanks for these."

"Well, it's my job. Otherwise I'd just be taking people's mail and keeping it." He laughed but it was slightly too high pitched and he grimaced a little as if he was embarrassed by what he'd just said.

"You're right," Steve said with a chuckle. "I appreciate that you don't run off with my mail; I wouldn't be able to get much work done otherwise."

"You work from home? I mean, I kind of guessed because you're here when I knock and you don't look like you're dressed for work. That's not to say that you're not dressed nicely or anything, but...you..." Bucky frowned and stared intently at a spot on the doorframe. "So you work from home?"

Steve leaned against the door. He was a few inches taller than Bucky and sometimes his height could intimidate people, which always felt weird because he thought he was the least intimidating person ever. "Yeah, I'm an artist." He held up the package. "I order a lot of art supplies online."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "What do you do?"

"Greetings cards, mostly. Some calendars, stationery, stuff like that. It pays the bills. I'm actually in the middle of a bunch of Christmas card commissions at the moment which completely screws with my head. I've been craving turkey and stuffing for like two months now."

Bucky laughed. "That's really weird. So, you paint?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah, acrylics. Some watercolor. I've got my first solo exhibition in a few months time so I'm trying to work on my own stuff too."

"Wow, congratulations. That must be great."

Steve shrugged. "It could go either way. I'm trying not to get my hopes up." He realized that he'd never properly introduced himself before. He shifted the package and his mail under his left arm and held out his right hand. "I'm Steve, by the way."

Bucky shook with a little smile. "I know. I mean, your name is all over your mail."

Steve chuckled. "Oh yeah. I guess it is."

Bucky shifted and jerked his thumb back at the street. "Well, I'd better go. It was nice talking to you."

"Yeah, you too," Steve said, trying not to sound disappointed; he was enjoying talking to Bucky.

Thor, who had been padding on the spot for the last few minutes eager for attention, gave a little bark.

Bucky stroked Thor's head. "Bye, dude." He gave Steve a little nod and headed off down the front walk.

Before Steve closed the front door, he noticed Peggy across the street, watering can in one hand and a big smile on her face. Steve gave her a smile back and a wave and closed his front door.

***

Steve got the first letter a few days later. His daily routine was a pretty solid one: He woke at 5:15am and went out for a jog with Thor. He was usually back by 6am and had a shower and breakfast and then got to work in the studio, breaking for lunch at 12:30pm and then stopping work for the day at 5pm before heading out again with Thor for a walk. Although he was getting into some semblance of a life on his own without his mom, he still didn't go out too much or see that many people besides his few good friends and that was becoming less and less these days, even before his mom had gotten too ill for anything. Sam lived in another city and visited as and when he could, Clint and Phil had demanding jobs and they all had to carefully arrange a free weekend between the three of them. Aside from Peggy and Sharon, he didn't really speak to a lot of other people so he initially thought the letter was a joke.

He went outside to pick up his mail from the mailbox and then headed back in the house, taking everything upstairs to the studio to open and read. He shuffled through the small stack of letters - bill, bill, a check maybe, junk. The last letter of the pile was a blue envelope with his name and address written in lovely cursive handwriting. As good a painter as Steve was, his own handwriting sucked so he always appreciated decent lettering. He opened it, curious. The letter inside was on blue paper the same shade as the envelope and had just one line written on it:

_You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen._

He blinked in surprise and looked on the back of the piece of paper. Nothing. Just that one line. He looked on the envelope but there was no return address. The postmark was stamped as being sent from within the city but gave no other indication of where the letter had come from. Steve read the line over a few more times, as if some clue would suddenly present itself within those eight words. This had to be a joke. Not necessarily intended to be cruel, but a joke nonetheless. He couldn't think of any of his friends that would send something like this though but he looked up and out of the window across to the Carter's house. When he had first moved in and met Peggy and Sharon, they had both spent the better part of an hour trying to convince him that his house was haunted and that was the reason the previous owners had sold it. They had _almost_ had him too until Peggy had finally cracked while trying to tell a bullshit story about ouija boards and possessed goldfish.

But he didn't think they would do something as elaborate as this. Sure, he and Peggy liked to flirt with each other but it was just...banter, right? Steve panicked, worried that maybe things weren't as jokey between them as he thought. He got up and headed downstairs, pulling on his sneakers and walked across the street to the Carter's house. Peggy answered the door, a book in one hand and a piece of toast in the other.

"Steven! What a lovely surprise. What can I do for you on this fine morning?"

Steve suddenly felt very awkward. Yeah, he hadn't really thought this through. "Um, this is going to sound a little odd but...did you send me a letter? Recently?"

Peggy looked at him in amusement. "Why would I send you a letter when you live right across the street?"

"I just...see, I got a letter this morning and I'm pretty sure it's a joke and I thought you...maybe..." He trailed off.

Peggy finished her toast and tucked her book under one arm, brushing off her hands. "Alright; what makes you so certain that this letter is a joke and, more importantly, why I would perhaps have been the one to write it?"

Steve pulled the letter out of his back pocket and handed it to Peggy. He watched as she opened it and read it then burst into laughter.

"Well, Steve, I'm very flattered you immediately thought that _I_ wrote this but my romancing days are long past and besides, I'm maybe a little too old for you don't you think?"

Steve could feel the heat rise in his face. "Peggy, I'm so sorry. I thought that maybe you were pulling my leg because of the...because we joke around - "

Sharon appeared at the door, her hair pulled back into a lop-sided ponytail, dressed in her scrubs. "What's so funny?"

Before Steve could snatch the letter back from Peggy, she handed it to Sharon with a big smirk. "Steve thinks that I'm writing him love letters."

Steve groaned. "No, I just thought - "

Sharon laughed as she read it. "Maybe he was _hoping_ that you wrote it."

"Oh man, I _knew_ this was a bad idea. You two are evil." He grabbed the letter back from Sharon and waited for them to finish giggling at his floundering.

"We're only messing around with you," Peggy said. "This has made my day, though. No - I did not write you this letter. But someone did."

Steve frowned. "What am I supposed to do? There's no return address. I have no idea who sent it. My friends aren't the kind of people to do things like this, even as a joke."

Peggy folded her arms. "Well, maybe it isn't a joke. It bears all the hallmarks of a secret admirer."

Sharon gasped and looked excited. "Ooh, Steve has a secret admirer!"

"I'm not sure I like the idea of being secretly admired."

"Well, if you start finding bodily fluids in with the letters then you'll know that they _really_ like you," Sharon said and snickered when Steve made a horrified face.

Peggy jabbed Sharon in the side. "Oh, don't scare the poor boy. Steve, maybe it's just someone who is too shy to say anything to you in person. Just wait and see. If it carries on for far too long - that is to say _if_ you get any more letters at all - then maybe you can think about taking it further if they really do concern you."

Steve hummed. "I don't want anyone to get in trouble. I mean, it's...it's kind of nice, I guess. No-one has ever called me beautiful before. Except for my mom."

Peggy gave him a little smile. "And she most definitely wasn't biased in that opinion."

Steve rolled his eyes fondly. "Okay, I'd better get back to work. I'm sorry to have bothered you with this."

"Steve my dear, you're never a bother."

***

Steve kept the letter close to him for the rest of the day and found himself glancing at it more than he really should have. Despite having no idea who sent it, it gave him a flutter of excitement. He read the letter several times, a smile always on his lips as he did.

***

"Here you go, Bob Ross," Bucky handed Steve another package the next day along with a few letters. There didn't appear to be anything else from his admirer.

Steve laughed. "I _wish_ I could paint as quickly as Bob Ross did. I'd be a hell of a lot more productive."

"Are you still painting Christmas?"

Steve put the package down behind him and leaned against the front door. Thor was currently sniffing happily around Bucky's feet. "No, trying to work through my exhibition pieces. It's harder than I thought it would be."

Bucky idly stroked Thor on the head when he pressed against Bucky's leg and looked up at him. "How so?"

Steve spoke before he had a chance to think about it. "My...my mom died six months ago so this exhibition is kind of dedicated to her." He immediately felt a little silly. This wasn't the kind of thing you talked about with the mailman.

But Bucky's hand stilled on Thor's head and he didn't look away or shift uncomfortably or any of the other things Steve expected him to do. His gaze didn't waver from Steve's face. "I'm really sorry to hear that," he said softly.

There was a sincerity to his tone that struck Steve and he just nodded a thanks. He smiled quickly, not wanting to leave things on such a melancholy note. "Anyway, I feel like I always talk about myself when you knock on my door. How about you? How long have you been a mailman?"

Bucky started to stroke Thor's head again and they both laughed when he let out a long happy sigh. "About two years now. I was actually a lawyer before this."

Steve grinned. "Wow, that's quite a change of pace."

Bucky smiled and shrugged. "Yeah, you could say that. I just woke up one morning, realised how much I hated my job and quit on the same day. The week after, I got this job and I haven't looked back."

Steve couldn't help but feel some admiration for Bucky right then. "That's awesome."

Bucky barked out a little laugh and looked away. "My family were _not_ pleased about the whole thing but they've accepted it now. They like that I'm happy so there we go."

"It takes a lot of courage to do something like that. Most people would rather not take the risk of giving something up to try and start over."

"Most people aren't idiots, though," Bucky said with a grin. It was a very nice grin, Steve noticed and he smiled back. Bucky quickly averted his eyes. "Anyway, I'd better get back to it. Good luck with the painting."

Steve ushered Thor back inside. "Thank you. Take care."

He closed the front door and headed back upstairs. As he settled back at his painting table, he saw Bucky across the street talking to Peggy as she worked on her garden. They were both laughing about something and Peggy handed Bucky a rose. He grinned wide as he took it and gave her a little bow before he headed off to the next house, letters in hand. Steve smiled as he watched him go.

***

The next day, another one of the blue letters was waiting for him in his mailbox. He hurried back inside the house and took the letter up to the studio, feeling more excitement and anticipation than he wanted to admit. Thor was asleep in the hallway, snoring softly. This letter was almost identical to the first - no return address, the same gorgeous handwriting.

_Hear my soul speak:_

_The very instant that I saw you, did_

_My heart fly to your service._

Steve read it over and over. This was very different in tone from the first letter but he thought that he recognised the quote. It was definitely Shakespeare but Steve couldn't quite place from which play. He could easily have looked it up online, his laptop was on the small table right next to him, but he wanted to enjoy trying to figure it out. Did the person writing the letters actually know Shakespeare well or had they just looked up a quote online? Steve didn't think he really cared.

He had been to the library a few times in the last couple of weeks; could it be someone there who had noticed him? But then that would mean that they would have had to have followed him home to get his address which made him anxious. Or maybe it was someone who worked there; they would have his address on their computer system. Steve rested his head on his hand. There was the girl behind the main desk with the bleached-blond hair but she never really gave him anything more than a polite smile. The guy who was usually out putting the books away didn't pay any attention to anyone.

Steve didn't really know anyone else on the street too well. There was old Mr Fury who lived two doors away but very much kept himself to himself; the Richards lived next to Peggy and Sharon but they were a married couple with two small children. He looked out of the window and frowned for a few minutes before picking up his pencil again and continued to sketch out a possible idea for one of his exhibition pieces.

He decided to let it be a mystery for now, not thinking for one second that the answer was a hell of a lot simpler than he would have thought.

***

The next day, there was another letter.

_I know I'm into you_

_I don't know what to do_

_When we talk I feel like I've died twice_

Steve had no idea what this quote was from and he immediately opened his laptop and typed the words into Google. He let out a small laugh when it turned out to be some lyrics from a Scissor Sisters song. He'd never really been into them himself but he listened to the track a few times. This was a lot different from Shakespeare; whoever was writing the letters was really trying to keep things varied. Steve folded the letter back up and placed it with the others. The first one was still his favourite and he read it often.

***

He managed to oversleep the next morning and was out for his jog later than usual. Thor was a bundle of manic energy and had picked up a huge stick in the park and carried it all the way home proudly, knocking into fences and lamp posts as he trotted down the street. Steve couldn't help but smile. Thor was a great dog; he had been no trouble when his mother was ill, just a patient steady presence happy to go for walks when Steve could take him or just be there to offer comfort when Steve needed it. He had buried his face into the dog's neck many times to stifle his sobs when things had become too much and Thor had let him, curling up into Steve's side as he offloaded his pain and grief.

When they finally got home, Steve grabbed the stick from Thor's mouth and ran around the front garden, holding it up out of reach.

"Oh, you want this? You want this?" he teased and Thor barked happily, jumping up to try and snatch the stick and chasing Steve as he ran in circles. They played like that for a little while, Steve laughing and joking while Thor barked and growled playfully, oblivious to everything until Steve heard someone chuckle behind him. He stopped, slightly out of breath and looked up to see Bucky leaning over the fence watching them with a big smile on his face.

"Hi there," Steve said with a slightly embarrassed grin. "As you can see, I'm very busy this morning."

"I can tell."

Thor barked when he saw Bucky and ran over to the front gate, jumping up on his hind legs and shuffling with excitement as Bucky ruffled his head. Bucky reached into his bag and pulled out a few letters for Steve, handing them over. Steve tried to hide his disappointment when he couldn't see a blue envelope in with the rest of the mail.

"How are you, Bucky?" Steve asked.

Bucky looked up at him and smiled brightly. "I'm good. Enjoying my new route. I lucked out on some nice neighbourhoods this time."

"Do you have many more streets to deliver to after this one?"

Bucky nodded. "A few. I'm usually finished by 2pm."

Steve liked how Bucky brushed through the front of his hair with his fingers. "So what do you usually do with the rest of your afternoons?"

"Oh, just...read, go swimming maybe. Nothing too exciting." He laughed softly.

"I don't know; sounds like a great afternoon to me."

Bucky shifted his bag on his shoulder. "How's the painting? You're working on your exhibition stuff, right?"

Steve sighed. "Yeah, but it's not going so good. I've hit a bit of a wall in terms of motivation the last couple of days. It'll be fine but whenever I sit down and try to work at the moment, my brain just shuts down and says nope."

Bucky gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'm sure you'll get hit by inspiration all at once when you least expect it."

"Yeah, I hope so." Steve could happily have stayed talking to Bucky for a while longer but he was worried about taking up his time. "Well, I don't want to hold you up."

Bucky blinked and his mouth quirked up in an self-conscious little grin. "Oh yeah, I...guess I'd better get back to it. Nice talking to you, Steve."

Steve watched as he walked away and wondered when they would speak again next. He briefly considered doing an online order for things he didn't really need.

***

Sharon came over while Steve was making a mid-afternoon snack for himself, fresh from a shift at the hospital by the looks of it. She followed him through to the kitchen, Thor happily trailing after them, and slumped into one of Steve's kitchen chairs. She nodded gratefully when he offered her coffee and some watermelon and sat down opposite her.

"Aunt Peggy's making Shepherd's Pie tomorrow and wants you over for dinner." She wiped her mouth as watermelon dribbled down her chin.

Steve bit into his own slice, chewed, aimed and spat the seeds out onto the empty plate in the centre of the table. "Sounds good. I'll bring dessert."

"So, have you had any more of those crazy letters?" Sharon asked with a grin.

"How's work at the hospital?" Steve asked instead of answering her. He didn't want to talk about that right now.

Sharon grinned. "Hmm. Okay. I'll take that as a yes."

Steve concentrated on his slice of watermelon. "How's Neal?"

Sharon took the hint and they talked for a little while about their work and then she left before she decided she was too tired to walk back across the street, threatening to fall asleep on Steve's couch. He pushed her playfully out of the house, promising to see her and Peggy for dinner tomorrow and then Steve was on his own again. He was painfully aware of the silence this time when he closed the front door and tried to push away the sick sad feeling rising in his throat; it was a feeling he was familiar with and he didn't want it to overtake him, not now. Keep busy, keep distracted, he told himself as he walked back up to his studio.

He sat down at his painting table and looked through the blue letters; he hadn't been in a relationship since before his mom had become really sick and it hadn't bothered him, hadn't even really been something that he had thought about for a long time. Taking care of his mom had been his main priority and he had spared few thoughts for himself and what he might want after she was gone. Getting these letters was exciting, he couldn't deny that, but something about them made him feel even more lonely than he already was. The fact that whoever was sending them couldn't just reach out to him in person, that they had to keep their distance in such a way made Steve aware of just how much he had slowly and unintentionally isolated himself from other people since his mom's illness and death.

He looked up as Thor wandered into the studio and he held out a hand to the dog. Thor immediately nuzzled into Steve's palm and the loneliness subsided a little.

***

Steve was busying himself in the studio the next day when he looked out of the window and saw Bucky making his rounds. He looked lost in thought, a slight frown on his face and he seemed to hesitate slightly before he opened Steve's mailbox. But then he was putting his mail inside and there was an unmistakable flash of blue before Bucky left and headed quickly off down the street towards the Parker's house. Steve immediately felt a rush of exhilaration and all but ran downstairs, Thor following at a gallop obviously thinking that something very exciting was about to happen that may or may not involve treats. Steve opened the front door and walked out to the mailbox as nonchalantly as he could, just in case a certain pair of nosy neighbours happened to be watching. He took out his mail and strolled back to the house. He took the stairs two at a time and sat heavily down in his studio chair, throwing the rest of his mail aside and opening the blue letter with fumbling fingers.

_You get lovelier each time I see you. I just want to hold you and never let you go._

Steve was pretty sure that this wasn't a quote from anything, just whoever his admirer was speaking from the heart. His own heart felt heavy; he wanted to be held too.

***

Dinner that evening was as good as ever; Peggy was a great cook and the three of them chatted easily as they ate. Steve had been feeling more and more down as the day had progressed but had perked up as soon as he entered the Carter's house, with a bunch of flowers in one hand and a cherry pie in the other.

"Such a gentleman," Peggy had said as he gave her the flowers. "I would have snapped you up in a heartbeat back in the day." Steve had laughed when she had given him a sly wink.

Sharon cleared the table when dinner was finished and came back with the pie and some plates. "Okay, come on. I can't not talk about it any longer. You got another letter this morning, didn't you?"

Steve made a noise of protest and Peggy and Sharon both cajoled him until he sighed and took all four letters out of his back pocket. He shyly handed them to Peggy and Sharon pulled her chair close and read over her shoulder.

"This is from The Tempest," Peggy said, holding up the letter with the Shakespeare quote.

Steve nodded. "Yeah, I know." He didn't tell her that he had finally looked it up online, unable to pinpoint the play himself.

Sharon held up one of the others. "Song lyrics?" she guessed, taking a bite of pie.

"Scissor Sisters."

She snorted and shook her head. "They could have better taste."

Peggy shushed her. "This one is very sweet." It was the one he had received that morning.

Steve sighed and rested his elbows on the table. "What's the point of all of this if I don't know who's sending them and they never actually talk to me?"

Peggy looked at him and Steve couldn't quite figure out the look on her face. "You're certain that you have no idea who could be sending you these?"

Steve sat back in his chair. "There's a girl at the supermarket who always flirts with me and giggles with her friend when she does but it doesn't feel like it could be her."

Sharon's phone started to ring and she groaned. "Work." She excused herself and headed upstairs.

Peggy stacked the letters together neatly and gently handed them back. "Steve, have you heard of Occum's razor?"

Steve frowned. "No, I can't say that I have."

"I would suggest that you look it up and think about it in the context of your letters." She gave him another one of those cryptic smiles and ate a forkful of pie. "I bet the answer is _right_ in front of you."

***

Steve looked it up before he went to bed. As far as he could tell from the various definitions online, it was a scientific and philosophical rule stating that the simplest explanation to a problem or theory tended to be the right one. He shook his head. He didn't have a simple answer for the letters, just that they had appeared one day without any forewarning and each one left him yearning for something that was unattainable. He closed his laptop and put it on the night table, turning off his lamp as he did and lay down.

He felt a bubble of misery well up in his throat. He missed his mom so much. He had been trying to stave off the tears for days now but knew that he had just been making it worse by ignoring his feelings and trying to get on with things, that he should just let himself cry when he wanted to instead of bottling it up. Steve hugged his pillow and started to sob quietly, heartache and relief washing over him in a strange wave.

***

He slept badly that night and by 3am was awake and staring at the ceiling, his eyes and nose sore from crying. He sighed deeply. He felt a little better but had that strange numb sensation that often followed one of his more intense bouts of grief. He decided that sleep wasn't going to come anytime soon and he got up, threw a hoodie on over his t-shirt, making sure not to disturb Thor as he did and padded down the hall to the studio where he picked up his sketchbook. He went downstairs, made himself some green tea and settled on the couch. After a moment he picked up his phone and opened a playlist, choosing one of his mom's favorite pieces of music - Lux aeterna by Howard Hanson. Steve had never been all that into classical music but he liked this track and most music by Hanson having grown up with it, a familiar if sad association with his mother. It felt strange to listen to it now and not be able to look over and see her enjoying it but it was comforting nonetheless. He heard soft thumps on the stairs and Thor walked over to the couch and rested his head on Steve's knee, looking up at him with those big soulful eyes that only dogs seemed to have. Steve smiled and patted the cushion next to him. Thor immediately jumped up and leaned into Steve's side.

"Hey boy," Steve whispered and nuzzled him, grateful for the contact.

They sat and listened to the music until the sun started to rise.

***

He must have fallen asleep at some point because he woke up with his neck at a weird angle on the back of the couch and his sketchbook digging painfully into his hip. Thor was up and pacing at the front door, whining with his tail wagging. There was a knock and Steve figured that's what must have woken him. He smoothed down his mussed hair and answered it.

Bucky had a bunch of mail in his hand and smiled when he saw Steve. "Good morning." Thor immediately tangled himself in Bucky's legs, eager for attention.

Steve managed a tired grin; as bad as he was feeling, it was hard not to want to smile when Bucky did. "Good morning back." His voice was thick and hoarse and he cleared his throat.

Bucky laughed. "Wow, someone had a bad night."

Steve's smiled wavered and he swallowed but answered as cheerfully as he could. "Something like that."

A look of worry passed across Bucky's face then and he seemed to notice the redness around Steve's eyes. His smile faded. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to joke...I was..."

"It's alright," Steve said. "Just...couldn't sleep."

Bucky nodded and bit his lip, obviously internally beating himself up for being an inconsiderate idiot. "Here." He handed Steve his mail. There didn't seem to be anything there that would warrant Bucky not just leaving it in his mailbox and Steve wondered why Bucky had knocked on his door instead.

"Thanks," Steve said and he started to try and say something to make Bucky feel less awkward, to explain that he'd done nothing wrong, but Bucky was already gently nudging Thor back in towards the front door.

"Bye," Bucky mumbled softly and hurried off down the front walk, not looking back.

Steve watched him go, part of him desperately wanting to call Bucky back but he just closed the front door and leaned against it, tired and confused. He made a small noise in his throat and quickly opened the front door again, making sure that Thor didn't come running out with him and hurried out onto the street. He saw Bucky a few houses down gracelessly shoving a few magazines into Mr Fury's mailbox, his face drawn into a frown.

Steve started to jog towards him. "Bucky!" he called and Bucky looked up, apprehension on his face. He smiled weakly and clutched the strap of his mailbag.

"Look, I'm sorry if I made you feel bad. It was...I just had a bad night, missing my mom. You didn't do anything wrong. I'd feel really awful if I thought that you were beating yourself up for the rest of the day over this." Steve put his hands on his hips.

Bucky nodded and he looked a little relieved but mostly apologetic. "I'm really sorry. It was a stupid thing to say and I didn't think before I said it."

Steve smiled. "It really isn't a big deal. I guess I didn't look too pretty when I answered the door."

Bucky laughed softly. "You don't look so bad." He quickly glanced away and chewed the inside of his cheek before turning back. "Thanks, Steve. I'll see you around?"

Something kind of _pinged_ inside of Steve then. He pushed aside the feeling of something maybe _possibly_ having finally slotted into place and he smiled at Bucky. "Sure thing." He waved and walked back to his house, wondering if he was right about the thought that crossed his mind and what he would do if he was in any way correct about it.

***

Grief does funny things to people. It effects everyone in different ways. For Steve, it addled his brain and left him forgetful and unaware of his surroundings, things left unfinished as his mind wandered to sad places; he put objects down and then spent the rest of the day trying to figure out where he'd left them. He seemed to exist in a state of obliviousness when his grief was at its worst. That was the best word he could think of to describe it. And he had been _totally_ oblivious. When he settled at his work table, still exhausted both mentally and physically from the previous night, he thought about what Peggy had said and about Occum's razor and he could have kicked himself. He still didn't want to think that the answer was _that_ simple, just in case it wasn't the right one. He took a deep breath and started to idly sketch on a sheet of scrap paper.

***

Just before lunch, his cell phone started to ring. He glanced at the number. It was Natasha, the owner of the gallery where his exhibition would be held.

"Hello Natasha," he answered.

"Steven, how are you?" Natasha's tone was hard and business-like and if he hadn't already met her in person, he would have been intimidated but this was just how she was.

He smiled at the formality. "Please call me Steve. I'm good, thanks. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I just wanted to check in and make sure that you're still on track for the end of November."

It was almost the end of July and Steve had started two of the ten pieces they had agreed on. Yesterday he would have panicked about this but he had almost figured out the rest of the paintings he wanted to do that morning, scribbled on a piece of old notebook paper. "I sure am."

Natasha huffed out a sigh of relief. "Good. I had two artists bail on me yesterday and I'm totally paranoid now that everyone else is going to suddenly up and leave their shows too. I knew I could count on you though; you just have that _reliable_ air about you." She paused for a few seconds. "But you are okay?" Steve knew she was talking about his mom; they had met just before she had gotten really ill and while they hadn't really known each other all that well, Natasha had called him every couple of weeks to see how he was doing and had even come to his mother's wake.

Steve stared down at the scrap of paper in his hand. "To be honest with you, I had a really bad night last night. But...I think I'm going to be okay. I'm looking forward to the show."

"Me too," Natasha said. "I think people are going to respond really well to your work. There's a very traditional and wholesome aspect to it."

Steve grinned. "Let's hope that people are still into that kind of thing."

"They will be. I'll let you get back to work. You call me if you need anything."

"Thank you, Natasha. I'll check back with you in a few weeks?"

They said good-bye and hung up. Steve rubbed his face and decided to go and get some sleep; he felt lighter and a little better than he did this morning but tired as hell. He had missed his morning run and hadn't even taken Thor out for a walk which he felt bad about, but he would take him to the park later and pay him some extra attention. He went to his bedroom and climbed back into bed, setting his alarm for later that afternoon. He didn't object when Thor jumped up on the bed beside him, usually that was a big no-no but Steve owed him. He planted a big kiss on the dog's nose, getting a confused chuff in response and let his eyes drift shut.

He hoped that he would get another blue letter tomorrow.

***

Steve was back to his usual routine the next morning and Thor seemed happy that he was too, trotting beside him with his Frisbee as they jogged back from the park. After a shower and a quick breakfast, he sat down in the studio and started to sketch out some composition ideas for the pieces he had decided on for his show. At around 8:15am, he saw Peggy and Sharon outside their house, Peggy with her gardening gear and Sharon loading up her Toyota with what looked like a year's worth of recycling. Steve quickly got up and headed outside, wanting to talk to them while they were both together.

Sharon looked up from the trunk of her car as she was trying to ram a bag of cardboard into a space where it may not fit. "Hey, Steve. Help me with this, would you?" She stepped back and Steve squished the cardboard into the car as best he could.

Sharon slammed the trunk closed. "Perfect! Thank you. I wish Neal had half the muscle mass that you do."

Steve just shook his head in amusement. "I was wondering if I could ask you both a favor."

Peggy stepped over, brushing soil from her hands. "Is everything alright?"

"Oh, everything's fine; it's a good favor, I hope. You know I have that exhibition coming up? How would you both like to pose for me and be a part of it?"

Sharon raised her eyebrows. "It's not nudes is it?"

Steve rolled his eyes. " _No_ , just normal portraits. It's my strongest area and I want to paint things I...that I care about."

Peggy's face broke into a huge smile. "Oh Steve, that's lovely. I'd be happy to pose for you."

Sharon thumped him on the arm. "Aw, you big softy. How could I say no to that? What would you need us to do?"

"Maybe sit for me, just for a couple of hours so I can get some sketches and reference photos? Whenever is good for you."

"Do we get a cut of the money if our paintings sell?" Sharon asked with a grin.

"Not that I'm expecting _any_ of my work to sell, but if I'm lucky and it does then I'll take you both out to dinner," Steve said with a smile.

Peggy laughed. "Damn this age difference yet again."

"Hey, it's a shame you don't know who your stalker is. Maybe you could paint them too," Sharon snickered.

"Don't say stalker. It's a secret admirer," Steve said with a grimace.

"I thought you didn't like the idea of being secretly admired."

"I prefer it to being _stalked_."

Sharon snorted and started to stuff more bags of recycling into the back seat of her car.

Peggy eyed him. "Speaking of which, did you look up Occum's razor?"

"Yes, I did," Steve said and folded his arms, eyeing her back.

"And? Has the answer been right in front of you all this time?" she said with a little smirk.

A voice piped up from behind Steve and his stomach fluttered. "Are you having a street party? Can I join in?"

"Good morning, Bucky," Peggy said with a big smile. "Of course you can. The more the merrier."

Steve turned around and held his hand up in greeting, suddenly slightly unsure of how to act.

Bucky nodded at him, a strange little smile on his face. "Morning." He handed Peggy a few letters. "So what's new? Anything exciting you can share with the mailman?"

Steve grinned and was about to make small talk when Sharon said, "Steve has a stalker."

Peggy turned to her, glaring. "Sharon!"

"No, I don't! It's not...." Steve threw Sharon a dirty look too.

The color drained from Bucky's face and he stopped smiling. "A stalker?"

"Sharon's exaggerating," Peggy said.

Steve watched as Bucky seemed to falter for a moment then gathered himself. "That can't be good," he said and tried to laugh but it came out sounding like a pained choke.

"I don't have a stalker," Steve said quickly.

"He's been getting these creepy letters - "

Steve gritted his teeth. " _No I haven't_. I mean, I've been getting letters but they aren't creepy..."

Bucky was looking worse with each passing moment. "Oh?"

Peggy marched up to Sharon and grabbed her by the arm. "You know what, I'm sure I saw a lot more recycling in the kitchen..." She dragged Sharon towards the house, pulling her indoors.

"Ouch! Aunt Peggy, you're hurting me...!"

Bucky was fumbling in his mailbag and pulled out a couple of letters, his jaw clenched. He shoved the mail at Steve and made some floundering motion behind him. "I'm running late. I need to...go and...letters...to people."

Steve held the few envelopes tightly in his hand but tried not to draw attention to how strangely Bucky was acting and that he knew the reason why. "Have a good day," he said quietly and watched as Bucky waved distractedly and hurried away.

Steve looked down at the letters he was holding. There was a blue one.

***

He sat down on his couch, oddly conflicted. At least he knew for certain now who had been sending him the letters. He just wished he hadn't had it confirmed quite the way he did. He had wanted to say something to Bucky but to come out and confront him right then and there would probably have humiliated him and he didn't want that. He turned the latest letter over and over in his hands before he carefully opened it. Thor, who had been sitting next to him as he ripped the envelope, leaned across and sniffed the letter and his tail immediately began to thump against the couch cushions. Steve couldn't help but laugh; even his _dog_ knew. He unfolded the paper.

_I have lived my life with only the prayer that some sudden dawn you might glance in my direction_

Steve couldn't help the smile that spread across his face because this quote he knew very well. It was from one of his favorite books. He sat and tried to decide what to do about all of this but he had no idea. Bucky was most likely feeling hurt and more than a little worried that he'd been compared to a stalker and Steve could pretty much guarantee that he wouldn't be receiving any more letters. He sighed, wishing his mom was here to talk to about all of this.

***

Peggy came over that evening after dinner. Steve walked her through to the kitchen and she sat down with a groan as he made some tea, reading the latest letter from Bucky. "I'm getting too old for this sort of drama."

Steve poured out two mugs and set one down in front of her before sitting at the table. "So I'm guessing you had this all figured out from the start?" he asked.

Peggy gave him a withering look. "Steve, I worked for MI5 for nearly twenty years. Of course I knew from the start. I saw you both the day he first knocked on your door and he was smitten with you as soon as he saw you. I'm just surprised it took _you_ this long to figure it out."

"Well, I've been distracted. For a few different reasons." He stared into his mug at the steaming liquid.

Peggy reached across and put her hand over his. "I know. Sometimes it's hard to see the wood for the trees when you've lost someone. I was the same when my husband died."

Steve looked up at her, surprised. She had never mentioned a husband before. "You were married?" he asked.

"Is that so hard to believe?" she said with a little laugh.

"Oh, I didn't mean it like...just, you never said anything."

Peggy patted his hand with a chuckle. "Steve, you have to stop thinking that you've mortally offended me every two minutes. Yes, I was married. For nearly forty years, if you can believe that. You remind me of him in many ways. I think that's one of the reasons I like you so much. He had a good heart too."

Steve squeezed her hand and smiled. "He was a lucky guy."

They were quiet for a few moments and then Peggy was all business again. "So, what are you going to do about this Bucky situation?"

"I don't know," Steve said with a shrug, his brow knotting in worry. "I think Sharon might have scared him off."

"If it's any consolation, she feels very bad about it. I didn't want to tell her that I knew who was writing the letters for fear that something like this might have happened."

"I don't think he knows that I've guessed, about the letters. Whatever I do now though, he's going to feel humiliated."

Peggy turned her mug around and around on the table. "Now that you know who your admirer is, how do you feel?"

Steve looked up with a frown. "What do you mean?"

"Well, do you like him?"

"I...I don't even know him. But from what I do know, yeah. I think I like him."

"Maybe you could write him a letter back rather than confront him directly?" Peggy said and Steve thought maybe that was a good idea.

He ran a hand through his hair and sat back in his chair. "I don't understand why he couldn't just, I don't know, ask me out or something. Not that I didn't enjoy getting the letters - it was really sweet - but surely he must have known that this would eventually make things awkward?"

"Not everyone is good at expressing their feelings outright. Writing the letters probably made more sense to him. But you're right; it could only go on for so long." Peggy finished her tea and stood up. "Well, I'm going to love you and leave you; I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You'll let me know what happens?" Her eyes were bright with mischief.

Steve grinned. "Of course. We'll grab dinner soon and arrange for you to sit for me?"

They walked to the front door; the evening was cool and quiet. "I can't wait," Peggy said.

She kissed Steve on the cheek and walked across the street to her own house. When she had gone inside, Steve closed his door and headed up to the studio. He searched around for some decent paper and an envelope that wasn't covered in paint and considered what to write. He finally started his own letter.

_Dear Bucky,_

_I don't quite know how to begin this so I'll just come out and say it: Thank you for the letters you've been sending me. I understand how you must be feeling given what you heard earlier today but I never once considered your letters to be anything other than sweet and flattering. You actually managed to write them at a time in my life when I needed something sweet and flattering._

_I hope you don't feel awkward knowing that I guessed it was you because I don't._

_Steve_

_P.S If you wanted to knock on my door and ask me out, I would say yes._

Steve read the letter over a few times; it was the best he could do. He sealed it in an envelope, writing _Bucky_ on the front in his own scruffy handwriting. He went outside, placed it carefully in his mailbox and quickly walked back into the house before he could change his mind.

***

Steve was nervous and distracted the next morning; his jog ended up being a sprint around the park because of all the tense energy he was feeling - Thor thought it was all a fantastic game of chase and barked happily as he ran after him - and when he got back home and had a quick shower and attempted to swallow down some toast, he found that he couldn't sit still. He jiggled his leg nervously as he alternated between looking at the time on his phone and out onto the street.

A little after 8:30am, he saw Bucky a few doors down. Steve hurried to his bedroom and positioned himself so he was out of view behind the drapes, feeling a little like a stalker himself. His studio didn't have drapes but he wanted to gauge Bucky's reaction to his letter and see if he'd made the right decision.

Bucky finally approached and seemed to slow a little, his head down, pointedly not looking at Steve's house. He shuffled around in his mailbag and pulled out a couple of letters - it hadn't actually occurred to Steve that he might not even get any mail today and his own letter could have been sat there for a day or two - and opened the mailbox. Steve watched him frown in confusion as he saw Steve's letter and he pulled it out and read the front, looking visibly nervous for a moment. He hastily put the other letters inside the mailbox and seemed to be deliberating on whether or not to open it. He glanced up quickly at the house then turned away and Steve could see him tear the envelope open. He held his breath as Bucky read the letter.

He felt like he was stood at the window for an eternity. Bucky was completely still for a few minutes and then he just turned and carried on down the street. Steve's shoulder's sagged. Had he done the right thing?

***

Three days passed and he thought that maybe he hadn't. There were no more blue letters, he wasn't expecting any more packages so there were no knocks on his door and he didn't run into Bucky on the street at all. What a mess this had all turned into. He read the letters Bucky had sent him over many times and felt kind of sad that he wouldn't be getting any more. He got some new greetings card commissions through - birthdays instead of Christmas this time - and threw himself into his work, letting himself be distracted.

He took Thor for an evening walk and was stood in the kitchen trying to decide if he was hungry for anything or just bored when there was a knock at his front door. He assumed that it was Peggy until he saw how Thor was pacing excitedly, his tail wagging fast as he made little chuffing sounds. There was only one person he ever seemed to act that way towards. Steve opened the door and he was right.

Bucky was on his front step and smiled down at Thor who had surged through the opening as soon as there was a gap big enough. He was wearing a shirt and jeans and the same scuffed Converse he wore on his rounds. He stroked the dog enthusiastically for a minute and then looked up at Steve shyly.

"Hi," he said quietly.

Steve smiled. "Hey. Do you want to come in?"

Bucky nodded and Steve stepped aside. Thor ran in after Bucky, prancing about like he had just gotten the best treat ever.

"Can I get you a drink or anything?" Steve asked.

Bucky just shook his head and stood hesitantly in the middle of the living room. "I wanted to apologize," he said.

Steve held his hands up. "You have nothing to - "

"No, I do. I really do. Just..." He stared down at the floor and then looked up at Steve, his eyes wide and embarrassment written large across his face. "I have _no_ idea why I wrote those letters. I was attracted to you and considered asking you out but then I lost my nerve and I just...I wrote the first note and sent it before I really even thought about it and then..." he took a breath and chewed on his bottom lip for a few seconds. "I kind of dug myself into a hole because I couldn't just _tell_ you it was me and I liked talking to you so much and then your friend called me a stalker and it just hit me how fucking _weird_ it was, what I'd been doing and I'm sorry. I never meant for it to be weird. I don't...I don't know what I was thinking." Bucky sat down heavily on the couch and put his head in his hands and groaned softly to himself.

Steve stood for a moment processing everything Bucky had just said. Thor was sat patiently, tongue lolling from his mouth, waiting for more attention. Steve eventually sat down next to Bucky on the couch.

"So," he said. "Are you going to ask me out or what?"

Bucky raised his head from his hands and looked at Steve like he was a crazy person. "Did you just hear a word I said?"

"Yes. To be honest? At first I thought it was someone playing a joke on me but when I realized it wasn't, I really liked it. I kind of wish you could have just _talked_ to me about everything from the start but...it felt nice to be wanted like that. And you quoted The Princess Bride which is probably my favorite book ever."

Bucky's worried frown melted a little. "Yeah?"

Steve nodded with a little grin. "I watched the movie as a kid and kind of fell in love with the idea of having it read to me like Fred Savage did. When I found out it actually _was_ a book, I begged my mom to read it to me and it became a big thing between us. It was nice that you managed to hit on something that meant so much to me, even if it was unintentional."

Bucky finally smiled and it lit up his face and his eyes were so damn beautiful. Steve tried to ignore how it made him feel to have Bucky look at him like that but it was too late. "I'm glad."

Steve smiled back. "But Scissor Sisters? Dude, come on."

Bucky squawked out a surprised laugh. "Hey, they're not _that_ bad!"

They laughed together and Steve hoped that this could be another new beginning for him.

***

Bucky woke up, bleary and dazed and reached across to curl his arm around Steve but found an empty space on the bed next to him instead. He groaned because he knew where Steve was and what he was doing. He got up and grabbed the extra blanket folded at the foot of the bed, bundling it around himself as he looked at the time on his phone. 2:30am.

He padded out of the bedroom, the light from Steve's studio spilling into the hallway. Thor appeared as if by magic and came to greet Bucky, his tail wagging.

"Is he _still_ worrying about those paintings?" Bucky said to Thor as he rubbed his ears, loud enough for Steve to hear.

"No, he's _shitting_ himself about those paintings," Steve replied.

Bucky poked his head through the door; Steve was stood with his arms folded looking down at the ten paintings propped up against the walls of his workspace, dressed just in his boxers. Bucky stumbled in and wrapped his arms and the blanket around him, locking his hands across Steve's broad chest and kissed him on the back of the neck.

"Rogers, come back to bed. Paintings are finished, exhibition is going up tomorrow. It's time to stop fretting about it."

Steve leaned back into him. "I know. I just wanted to look at them all together again before I pack them up."

Bucky had to admit that the paintings for Steve's exhibition were possibly the best work he'd ever produced. He had foregone using brushes with his acrylics and instead had opted for a palette knife and the results were incredible: Each portrait was rendered in strong, angular strokes but still retained the softness and character of the subject of each individual piece. There were two portraits of Steve's mom, referenced from photographs but the love that had gone into making them more than just painted copies was undeniable. There was Peggy, surrounded by her roses and Sharon in her scrubs, mid-laugh. There was a picture each of Clint and Phil, each looking intensely at the other when placed together; no-one needed to know that it had taken at least nine attempts to get the reference photos because they had just cracked up every time Steve tried to take them. Sam was smiling slyly at something off to the left in his painting and Bucky couldn't help but want to laugh at the portrait of Thor, sitting bolt upright and proud; the doggy representation of his namesake.

Steve pointed with his foot. "That one's still my favorite," he said softly.

Bucky hummed into Steve's neck. It had taken a _lot _of persuading to get Bucky to agree into letting Steve paint that particular portrait. On the canvas, Bucky was asleep, sprawled on his back with just a sliver of blanket covering up what Steve liked to joke (way too many times to be funny anymore) was his favorite package from the mailman, the photo taken after the first time they had had sex. But the painting had grown on him and it made Steve happy, which made him happy.__

Bucky pointed to the last one in the row, the one that _he_ had persuaded Steve to paint. "That one's mine."

Steve had initially been against the idea of including a portrait of himself in the show but whilst fiddling with his phone one day, he had accidentally taken a bunch of selfies and Bucky had totally fallen in love with one of them. Steve looked awkward and honest and just absolutely one hundred percent _Steve_ in the photo and Bucky had insisted that the collection wouldn't be complete without it. Natasha had agreed when she had come over to see the work. She had been blown away by the paintings and had already marked the one of Peggy to buy herself.

"These are amazing, Steve," Bucky said. "Your mom would have been so proud."

Steve's hand tightened on Bucky's arm. "Thanks Buck." He took one last look at all of the paintings together and turned around, leaning in to kiss Bucky softly. "Let's go to bed."

Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve's waist and turned out the light to the studio, Thor trotting happily behind them as they headed to the bedroom.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was another fic that didn't quite turn out the way I intended it to but hopefully it works. 
> 
> Many thanks to the awesome asgardianette who has just been fantastic in terms of letting me spew ideas and thoughts in her general direction :P


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